


Custody

by Raven_Ehtar



Series: Loki's Brood [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Developing Relationship, Family Feels, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, Loki's Kids, M/M, Parent Loki, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Loki, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burgeoning relationships are complicated. Even more so when it's between a hero and a possibly-villain. And then you add three kids... The road to a family unit wasn't always smooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Custody

**Author's Note:**

> Guys. Seriously. Thank you so much for all of the support on this series. It makes me happy that so many of you are enjoying the stories, and makes me eager to get to the next parts. c:
> 
> Worried about the meaning of the title? Yeah, me, too. Also, I know close to nothing at all about Victor von Doom. Linkara, Wikipedia and the fanfics of more comic savvy writers are my friends and where I get my knowledge of him. So if I'm totally screwing him up, I'm sorry.
> 
> Music:  
>  _Undenied_ by Portishead
> 
>  **Historian’s Note:** This series takes place after Phase One. Anything post The Avengers is not taken into account.
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** ‘[Loki's Brood](http://8tracks.com/raven-ehtar/loki-s-brood)' on 8tracks

_Well, here we are again,_ Tony thought to himself bitterly. _And ain’t the nostalgia just downright sickening?_

Tony, along with the rest of the Avengers team, was gathered around one of Tony’s many display screens, playing the bit of footage sent to them by S.H.I.E.L.D. less than half an hour ago for what felt like the thousandth time. It wasn’t very much, really, but what there was had been taken from multiple angles, cut to pieces, zoomed in on, slowed down, notations and memos added, cross references to other bits of film and file of information linked in… it all added up to the same thing. It all came back to the conclusion that was plain within the first few seconds of watching. 

His teammates cast him surreptitious looks from time to time, judging his reaction, trying to guess his thoughts. Tony understood the reason for it, but was still irritated. He did his best to ignore them. 

Instead, he focused all of his attention on the screen, as though by sheer intensity he could change what it dared to show them. As though by force of will he could change the image of Loki, in full battle gear, working alongside Victor von Doom.

As soon as the information had arrived that evening in one of those small and very official looking briefcases, with an introductory memo attached, Tony had begun to quietly withdraw. Pepper had been there with him, as well as the triplets who were on their fourth day of a week-long stay. Clint and Natasha were the ones who delivered the briefcase, and soon the rest were there as well, gathered in his living room. There was silence, awkward and charged. All it had taken was a look between him and Pepper, and she had quietly gathered up the kids and taken them out of the apartment.

They shouldn’t see or hear anything to do with their father in this kind of situation, and Pepper could easily catch up on the info later. If she wanted to.

And it was all bringing back some nasty memories. Memories of when Loki had been unmistakably an enemy, an enemy with a big stick and a bigger grudge. But that had been over twelve months ago, Loki had stood trial amongst his own people, and in the intervening time he had been working to erase some of the damage he had caused. In a year’s time, Loki had become a familiar sight at the Avengers Tower, had slowly begun to repair some of the bridges with his estranged brother, and was beginning to open up around the rest of the team by degrees. In a strange way, Loki had actually begun to become a part of the team, at least from Tony’s point of view. His children that Tony had become secondary father to undoubtedly assisted with that. Everyone on the team adored them, and that naturally made it easier to relate to the once-villain. Progress was being made. 

And now this.

Why, why was this happening? Why after all of the progress he had made, after a year without a single _hint_ of trouble, was Loki throwing in with metal face? Tony tried to remember back to four days ago, when Loki had arrived with the triplets, if there had been any clue whatsoever that Loki planned to join forces with Doom, anything that might have been easy to miss at the time but which in retrospect would be noticeable. Nothing suggested itself, and Tony was left spinning his mental wheels. He hated this, he hated the grooves his thought patterns were having to fall back into, of thinking of Loki and all his powers as a potential threat again, of trying to apply twisted Asgardian logic and desires to the situation and figure out what he might be up to. He was having enough trouble accepting that it was happening _at all_ , and frantically searching for a ‘why.’ Thinking at all strategically was a little bit beyond his capabilities at the moment.

When all of the footage had been watched, and every bit of notation attached thereto been read at least three times, the Avengers sat down and began discussing what it could mean. 

Overall there wasn’t too much material, and not much hint of what was happening in it. There was no context for what they were seeing, so no ‘big picture’ to take apart. All they could really tell was that Loki and Doctor Doom were in deep discussion, rather like they were in conference. The spies who had spotted them had also managed to get some semi-clear shots of the papers they had been conversing over. What they could make out did not bode well. And of course, each of the Avengers had their own interpretation of what it could mean and what they should do.

When Tony finally began to tune back into the conversation, this is what it consisted of:

“It certainly doesn’t look good,” Steve was saying. “Doctor Doom on his own would be bad enough, but this…”

“My brother has not gone rogue, Captain,” Thor growled out dangerously. “He has worked hard this last year, and would not risk all to throw in with this miscreant.” Tony managed a twinge of sympathy for the big guy. If anyone was going to be more torn and disorientated by Loki’s turn, Thor won hands down.

“If it’s not a flip in personality, then what? Mind control again?” Clint sounded vaguely mocking when he said it, but everyone paused a moment to consider the suggestion. 

Bruce was the one to speak next, sounding thoughtful, controlled. “Not impossible, but I don’t think it’s very likely. It took the Tesseract’s power to manage that before, and Doom just doesn’t have the juice.”

“Then it is a ploy,” Thor insisted. “A ruse in order to trap this Doom.”

“That _is_ more of his style,” Steve admitted.

Clint shifted in his seat, scowling. You could almost see his own internal struggle – he still mistrusted the Trickster, but like the rest of them had been growing used to him in the past year. With this development it threw his opposing inclinations into direct conflict. If Tony had had the energy, he’d have felt pity. But screw it, sympathy for Thor was enough. “But if this is a trick for Doom,” the archer argued, “then why didn’t he tell us about it, or give us any kind of warning? We’ve teamed up with him in the past, why not this time?”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe because it was a last minute decision. Maybe because for the ruse to work, we have to respond as though Loki really were betraying us. The best way to get us to respond as that way the most convincingly would be to keep us in the dark. It is Loki’s style, and that style is notoriously labyrinthine. I don’t know, maybe it’s not a ruse at all, but Doom is forcing Loki’s hand in some way.”

“Does it matter?” Natasha spoke up for the first time. “I mean, does it matter whether or not Loki is on Doom’s side or ours? Were this any other case we would be focusing on the ‘what’ rather than anything else. I say we concentrate on what Doom and Loki might be up to and worry about motivation or intention later.”

“I think in this case the ‘whos’ and ‘whys’ have slightly more relevance than usual,” Steve put in tightly. “The fact that I even have to point that out…”

And Tony allowed himself to tune back out again. When it came to arguments about Loki the team had proved themselves champions in going round and round in circles, and this would only become a particularly long winded bout with no resolution in sight. Tony was tired and didn’t even feel up to following along without contributing anything. So he retreated to his own thoughts, which bore an uncanny resemblance to the argument he was avoiding, but at least it was quieter.

“Tony?”

He jerked, attention snapping back painfully from his musings to the circle of teammates, all watching him expectantly. He passed a hand over his face, and wondered how long he’d been out of the loop of conversation. “Yeah?”

Steve cleared his throat and Tony could see, he could see the conscious decision not to question his woolgathering. That’s probably what their resident blast from the past would call it, too. “I was just asking if you had a way of getting in touch with Loki? Like a StarkPhone in case something came up with the kids.”

Tony frowned. He must have been out of it longer than he had thought. What would they want something like that for, just call Loki up and ask straight out, ‘Have you gone to the dark side of the Force?’ Sure, that would work.

He shook his head. “Nope, sorry.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed, her lips pulling to a frown. “Really? It’s been a year, what if there was an emergency?”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t know, I’ve never asked him. I think the running assumption is that if something happens, _I_ take care of it.”

“Still seems kind of odd, though,” Bruce mused. “He’s always so anxious about them, and _Thor_ has a phone—“

“Yes,” Tony snapped, cutting the scientist off. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but Loki and Thor are completely different people. Technological acceptance in one does not automatically equal the same in the other!”

The room became very still, with five sets of eyes watching Tony with surprise and a touch of wariness. Tony didn’t particularly care that they stared, nor did he care what they might think. Not for now, at least.

“Okay, Tony,” Bruce said quietly. “No one was saying that they were. I apologize.”

From there on the meeting was even more strained than before, and the small rate of progress they had been making ground to a complete halt. Eventually it was decided that no moves had to be made instantly, they could afford to break and pick it up again in the morning, when everyone was rested and tempers were less frayed. Teammates dispersed rapidly back to their own apartments, leaving Tony to an echoing silence and the frightening prospect of his own thoughts.

To his private relief, it didn’t last very long. A few minutes after the elevator shut on the last departing Avenger, it opened again to reveal Pepper, the triplets in tow. Tony’s heart did an uncomfortable lurch, disregarding the arc reactor. 

_What was he supposed to tell the kids?_

Pepper was quiet and the children subdued when they arrived. The look Pep gave Tony over their heads made it plain what she was questioning. Tony appreciated the attempt at discretion, but a quick look into each of the kid’s faces told him it was all a bit futile. As was usually the case whenever this kind of thing cropped up, they all showed a greater understanding than one would expect of seven year olds. Or possibly eight year olds. He was never clear on their age. They were all looking up at Tony with intense little stares in blue, green and gold, worry manifesting differently for each of them. Hela, face continually half hidden, was biting her lips, and she fiddled with the glove that covered one of her hands. Fen scowled, brows drawn low and his hands bunched into fists; if he’d been a wolf in that moment, hackles would have been raised and teeth bared. And Jör simply stood, so motionless he could have been mistaken for a statue, eyes locked on Tony and waiting for answers, just as his siblings were.

To Pepper he simply shook his head, a signal that they would talk about it later and that it didn’t look good. Color drained out of her, her mouth went tight and she nodded, once.

They headed into the kitchen, a silent troop of five, to make dinner, which was what they had been doing before the briefcase had arrived.

The meal, both the preparation and eating of it were both unnaturally quiet. Tony was anxious, his thoughts scattered and miles away, but he still tried to be present for the triplets; to provide some sense of stability, of solidarity for them. For all of the good it did, though, he might as well have been pacing back and forth, biting his nails. The kids could feel something was wrong. They were smart and perceptive, and Tony wasn’t in any state to play like everything was fine at all convincingly. 

No one ate very much.

When the meal was done and time to clean up, the kids had gone out – reluctantly – into the living room. Once Tony and Pep were alone, he gave her a shortened version of what S.H.I.E.L.D. had given them and a run down on what the rest of the team thought. Pepper absorbed it all silently, only nodding occasionally. When he finished she looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, a fine line appearing between her brows.

“What is it?” he asked, certain he already knew the answer.

She shook her head, eyes dropping back to the sink full of water and suds. “It’s nothing, just that…” She took a deep breath, then released it with a chuckle that had not an ounce of humor in it. “I want to ask you if you’re alright,” she said to the sink. “But we both know you’re not. Don’t we?”

Tony didn’t reply. After a moment he picked up a plate, wiped it dry and put it back in the cupboard more aggressively than was strictly necessary. No, he wasn’t alright. Nothing was. But what made it worse was Pep _knew_ how not okay it was, and she was still there. She was hurting, he had hurt her, but she was still there. He needed her to get angry, yell at him, hit him, something. Give him some kind of distraction—

Tony cut off that train of thought viciously. Was that what he was becoming? Someone willing to use Pepper as stress relief? He was an ass, but not _that_ much of an ass.

As they were finishing up the dishes and Tony felt he was calmer again, he spoke quietly, watching her face carefully. “Pep, would you mind staying the night, with the kids? I need some time alone to think, and they can’t be left alone. Not tonight.”

Pepper didn’t look up at him, seemingly fascinated with the sink and dishes, but Tony saw enough of her face to see the expression, the flinch that his request elicited. It was pained, a wince that she did her best to smooth out and hide quickly. “Yes, of course,” she said, her voice oddly raw.

Tony felt a twinge of guilt, wanted to say something, some kind of reassurance or something, anything to change that expression… but nothing came to mind. Nothing seemed like enough. 

Back in the living room the kids were all frighteningly quiet. Tony had expected them to switch on the TV to watch a final round of evening cartoons – their usual schedule – but the screen was black and silent, the triplets all seated on one of the couches, close together and looking like they were talking. As he and Pep walked in they all looked up and Tony nearly froze under the sudden scrutiny. 

Before he could begin to explain the change in their sleeping routine, Hela hopped up and trotted over to him. She stopped in front of Tony and stared up at him with one gemstone green eye. With a voice that still had a slight lisp, she asked, “Daddy, why is everyone scared?”

Tony’s heart melted a little. It was something that all three of them had taken to doing only very recently, calling him ‘daddy’ instead of ‘Tony.’ The first few times had made him unbelievably uncomfortable and nervous, like it was a precursor to something horrible he had no control over or a sign that something out of his control already _had_ happened. But when nothing besides his title had changed it had only taken a few days to not only get used to the idea, but to secretly like the new name the kids had bestowed on him. It felt like a badge of honor.

Of course, now he had to _earn_ that badge.

“They’re not, honey,” he said, stooping to lift the girl up. She was still light as a feather, hardly anything to her. “No one’s scared.”

“Yes they are,” came a defiant little voice. Fen popped up over the edge of the couch, standing on the cushions. He was frowning, but on so young a face it looked more like a pout, golden eyes flashing, dirty blond hair a mussed up mess. He pointed at his nose. “They smell funny, like bunnies when you poke ‘em.”

The last of the trio, Jör, stood up next to his brother and nodded solemn confirmation. Jörmungandr was possibly the quietest out of the three, but Tony knew he was also probably the most observant, which was saying something. And his senses were just as sharp as Fen’s, though he was far less likely to bring anyone’s attention to them.

Tony looked between them all a little helplessly. He knew other parents had their share of problems with raising kids, but he felt he was playing this particular game on ‘expert mode.’ What would this be like when they hit their teens? He shifted Hela slightly on his hip, aware of her gaze on him, and walked over to the couch, until he was leaning on it. “Okay,” he conceded. “They _were_ a little scared. But you remember that me, your aunt and uncles, we all have special jobs, right?”

They nodded. Fenrir piped up, “Beating up the bad guys!”

Jör looked at his brother. “Villains,” he said.

“Right. Beating up the villains.”

“That’s right. Well,” Tony licked his lips. He hated this, having to even partially lie to these kids, but what other choice was there? Tell them their father might be one of those villains they would have to beat up? Again? “Today we were told about a new villain, and we’re still figuring out what to do.”

Fenrir frowned. “They’ve never been scared before,” he said doubtfully.

Tony looked at Pep, who was watching from a slight distance, but she only shrugged. He was on his own. “That’s because this one… is actually two. Much harder. But we’ll still get them,” he added with a grin and a wink. “So no frowny faces here, got it?”

The boys smiled back at him, still a little bit doubtfully, but mostly reassured. Hela, though, still looked as concerned as ever. Before he could ask her why, she whispered a question to him so only he could hear. It made his blood go a little cold with the implications it brought up. “Why are they scared of _us?”_

“They’re not, honey,” Tony said, wishing he could sound more convincing, wishing he could think of something to say that wasn’t a repeat of what he had just said. Wishing he could completely believe what he was saying himself. 

“They are,” she said. Then, even quieter, “Like the others from before.”

Tony looked at her. There was something there in what she said, something that needed to be examined, but now was not the right time for it. Not with the entire structure of their cobbled together family possibly coming apart at the seams. Rather than pursuing the odd comment, then, Tony settled for patting Hela’s back, murmuring something comforting, and praying that he was doing the right thing. He’d been doing that a lot this last year.

“But, because of that,” Tony said for all of them, “it means I have some work to do in the workshop. So Pep’s going to be keeping you little terrors company for the night. That sound alright?”

The boys shared a look with each other, then with Hela. He didn’t need to hear Fen’s question to know they did _not_ care for this change. “Do you have to?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, kiddos, but there’s no way around it. Pepper will be with you, though, and if I need to I can be back up here in less than a minute.”

“You’ll be gone all night?” Jör asked quietly, worry creasing his usually stoic face.

“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “But back for breakfast.”

Fenrir perked up. “Ham?” he asked with a grin.

Tony nodded. “And eggs,” he added, and Jör seemed to perk up a little, too.

Hela, who had been quiet on Tony’s hip, tugged on his sleeve a little. She was looking over at Pep, a frown marring her face. “What if…” she paused, and the frown grew deeper, more troubled. “What if people come for Pepper?” she asked.

It was Tony’s turn to frown, confused. “If someone needs her and she has to leave, then JARVIS will tell me and I’ll come back up.”

Pep, having listened in to all of this without contributing, finally stepped forward into the living room, smiling her friendliest smile. “Don’t worry. Even if it’s the entire voting board, they can wait until morning. I won’t be leaving you guys until Tony gets back. Okay?”

Hela stared, then nodded, looking at the ground. “Okay.” Tony could tell Hela wasn’t completely satisfied with the answer she got, but she was willing to accept it, which Tony considered good enough for now.

Setting the girl down, he gave each of them a good night hug, reminding them to behave for Pepper, to not worry, and to brush their teeth before bed.

Hugging Hela, she had one last slightly odd thing to say before he left. “You have to come back, daddy.”

Tony blinked. Hela was staring at him steadily, and Tony could tell there was more to the words than childish fear. There was something lurking behind them, something the girl was trying to get across by just her stare, and Tony just couldn’t understand it. He nodded anyway. “I will,” he said as seriously as she. “I promise.”

Tony headed off to his workshop, his personal haven, and tried not to think too hard about what Hela might have meant. He also did his best to forget the look in Pepper’s eyes when he asked her to stay so he could wander off to think about Loki, the pain that request had caused, but that was harder. 

He knew that Pepper suspected he and Loki were involved, and in a much more Biblical sense than just sharing parental responsibilities. He could tell in how she would look sideways at him from time to time, in how carefully she would tip toe around the subject of Loki as a whole, and in how she behaved around the Asgardian himself whenever he was around. She suspected it, though she never breached the subject directly, and he knew the thought of it hurt her. There had been a time when she and Tony… But no. That was a whole other mountain of issues that could wait for another time. Not too much longer, perhaps, but now was not the time.

And she wasn’t alone in her suspicions. Tony was fairly certain that the entire team shared them. It was part of the reason they had all been so twitchy around him during the briefing, waiting to see if he would explode. Which, to be fair, he kinda had. And of course if that was what the team – and Natasha specifically – thought, then that’s what Señor Fury would think, too. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore between Nat and Tony, they just had a kind of understanding. She wouldn’t actively dig through Tony’s life – unless some special circumstances popped up – but anything he was careless enough to just let drop around her or that she could reasonably infer on her own was fair game and should be assumed that Fury knew as well. Tony considered it a fair enough trade, by and large. Though this particular piece of information would cause all _sorts_ of exciting complications…

Pepper, when he said he needed to be alone to think, probably thought what he really meant was he was going to drink.

This was only partially true.

His workshop was quiet, dimly lit, and in a state of cluttered order that worked best for him. He knew where everything was, but there was just enough disorder to make everything feel natural, organic in a place made up of metal and electricity. The world could be falling apart outside – and it often was, in his experience – but until it reached this room Tony would always have a place where he could relax, feel as though he really were in control of his own life, his own identity, and _not_ about to drop off the edge of creation. 

Tonight, he doubted that it would quite work out that way.

Pepper, and by degrees the rest of the Avengers team, had been meddling in Tony’s life. It was well meaning, he knew, and for the most part restricted to only a few issues. The one taken to with the most energy had been his habit to hermit himself away for days on end, and the second was his drinking. Tony had an addictive, occasionally self-destructive personality, and both of those were often expressed through the bottom of an expensive glass. To combat this he was nagged, bothered, given moralistically uplifting speeches, and generally annoyed abominably on all sides. When all of that failed to curb his drinking sufficiently, his bottles had simply started disappearing. It didn’t stop him completely – that would be nearly impossible – but it certainly put a crimp in the habit, and _usually_ kept him from binging. 

But the one place any alcoholic stash was safe was in his workshop. It wasn’t as though he kept it so heavily locked that _no one_ could get in when he wasn’t there – Pep still had a password that would work – but it was understood that the workshop was a ‘no touchy’ zone, and no one went through his possessions down there even in the interest of prevention. In the interest of fairness, though, Tony never kept very much down there. He wasn’t so dependent that he couldn’t play fair.

One of the few bottles that Tony did have secreted amongst his tools and supplies was dug out, still more than half full, and taken with him to one of his workbenches. The one with the comfiest chair for preference. He sat down, splashed some scotch in a glass he found in a drawer, took a sip that burned all the way down to his diaphragm, and tried to hold off the thoughts, just a moment longer.

It was no use, of course, and a rather stupid exercise to try and attempt. He _had_ to think about the situation and what it meant. It was only his personal involvement in this mess that was putting him off.

Everyone suspected he and Loki were involved. It didn’t help in the least that they were right.

Had he been deceived, he wondered, manipulated? That was the chief question, first and foremost in his mind. It wasn’t even a question of whether or not Loki had deceived the Avengers as a whole. In Tony’s mind that was entirely secondary. He wanted to know if _he, Tony_ , had been intentionally manipulated. That, in his estimation, was a completely separate issue. Gods knew, quite literally, that Loki was a master of trickery and lies. He’d garnered a reputation and quite a few nicknames based around that fact, so much so that it had become known even on Earth. If Tony had fallen prey to one of the Trickster’s ploys, then he would be very far from the first to have done so. Hell, he might not even be entirely blamed for having done so; Loki’s reputation was so highly – or lowly – regarded. He might not even blame _himself_ too much, except…

Except he didn’t _feel_ like he was being lied to. Of course therein lay the entire goal of a skilled liar, Tony thought as he threw back another swallow of scotch. No one fell for lies that _felt_ like lies; one couldn’t be a dodger if you always appeared deceitful. 

Had it all been a sham, then? Everything? From that very first morning when Loki had brought the kids and made Tony their guardian, had that been the first step in a long, convoluted process of getting Tony to trust him, by getting him to _care?_ The months of learning how to take care of three kids, two with shape shifting abilities, the late nights of calming them down from nightmares, of teaching _himself_ how to teach a mixture of Earth and Asgardian knowledge, had that all been feeding into some plan of Loki’s? Had he been manipulated through the children, by being made to care for them, learning how to handle their questions, their tears, their worries and their acting out? By becoming a parent, had he played straight into Loki’s hands?

And most recently… had that just been the final step in securing Tony in his web of trickery, ensuring that all he did was to the Asgardian’s benefit?

Everyone suspected that Tony and Loki were sleeping together. Depending on who you talked to, that had begun either nine months ago or one month ago, with Clint’s guess being the nine month extreme and Pepper’s the shortest end of the spectrum. Up until two weeks ago, they had all been wrong.

It had taken that long, though not for lack of effort, to lure the Asgardian into bed with him. He had spent a good portion of the last year in wrestling with his own desires regarding Loki, and then the rest in simultaneously coming to terms with them and trying to satisfy them. Loki had proved to be a challenge to seduce. The word that always leapt to mind was ‘tease,’ though he doubted that was Loki’s intent. And when Loki had finally given in after a warm, quiet night on the balcony, sharing a drink and some interesting conversation that had wandered _very_ far off track, he hadn’t seemed to be giving in. Not really. If anything, their journey from under the stars to under the sheets had seemed as much if not more his idea as Tony’s.

Which only served to make him wonder more, now. Six months of hints and testing boundaries with little effect, then suddenly there they were, Tony quite effectively pinned and uncomplaining. Then two weeks after that, evidence from S.H.I.E.L.D. that had Loki with Doom.

The thing was, Tony _should_ have been wondering long before this. It shouldn’t have taken visual evidence of Loki possibly betraying them that got him thinking that maybe, possibly, the God of Mischief and Chaos _might_ be playing him for a fool. He had once been suspicious, about twelve months ago, but that had melted away quickly. Probably too quickly. Definitely too quickly. 

If he was honest with himself now, though… he couldn’t really believe that Loki had betrayed him. And it wasn’t the kind of disbelief fueled by denial or shock, it just didn’t fit in his mind. It wasn’t probable. Which made no sense. Of course it was probable… wasn’t it?

It didn’t help that his thoughts kept drifting. Tony kept thinking of green, dark green eyes with that hidden glint, the veiled centuries of knowledge and memory and experience that were now focused on _him_. He remembered long fingers that either held him with surprising strength or traced his skin, his jaw, the edge of the arc reactor with feather lightness. He remembered the dagger smile, and the teeth that were just as sharp as their simile. The long lines of limbs and planes of lean muscle, the flushed skin, blown pupils, hitching gasps…

Tony rubbed at his face, tried to bring himself back to the present: He was compromised, and he fucking well knew it. There was no way to see himself as anything other than compromised and therefore unsuitable for making any judgment calls, at least where Loki was concerned. But then, who was better qualified than him when it came to judging Loki? Excepting Thor, Tony was the one who had spent the most time with the Trickster, talked the most with him, gotten to know him the best, and that was all without even considering how he had come to know the man through his children.

Tony drained the glass with a grimace. Maybe he was a fool for trusting Loki. Maybe he was being manipulated.

_“Sir?”_

Tony tilted his head back at the familiar sound of JARVIS’s smooth, modulated voice. He was glad for the distraction, really, since all he seemed to be accomplishing was becoming progressively drunk and turned around in his own looping reasoning. “What is it, JARVIS?” he called, his voice rough.

 _“A message from S.H.I.E.L.D., sir,”_ JARVIS informed him. _“Priority one. It comes from Director Fury himself. He seemed quite determined to speak with you directly, but the protocols…”_

“I get the idea,” Tony interrupted, refilling his glass. “What’d big, bad and grouchy want?”

_“Fury was quite… persistent in his message. The general gist of it has to do with the earlier missive delivered by Agents Romanoff and Barton. He wants to know what action is being taken in regards to Loki’s conduct, and what decisions, if any, the team has come to.”_

Tony allowed himself a humorless smile. “That was an incredibly edited version of what Fury _actually_ said, wasn’t it, JARVIS?”

_“You see right through me, sir.”_

He snorted, again without any humor. He actually considered picking up a phone and speaking to Fury directly. No doubt there would be quite a bit the belligerent old spy would like to know, including and aside from the events that had taken place that evening in his living room. He would be all too eager to grill Tony, even over the phone, about his exploits. He could practically feel Fury’s single irate eye boring into the back of his head, as though Fury were there, leaning out from behind a wall with a scowl worthy of the Ancients etched into his face. It made the whole idea of speaking to him unpalatable, really, but then it might be worth it just for the stroke Fury would have over Tony actually _calling_ him. 

On the other hand, he was also seriously considering telling the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to stick his curious nose up his own ass. He wondered just how many agents he could expect to be pounding on his door if he did that, and how quickly they would arrive. 

In the end he decided on a compromise. 

“Please send the following missive to Director Fury, care of S.H.I.E.L.D., Priority One, JARVIS. The Avengers team has been appraised of the situation. After some conference we have broken until new information is presented. I, Tony Stark alias Iron Man, am pursuing my own lines of inquiry and will keep S.H.I.E.L.D. appraised of any significant developments or discoveries in the situation. Until you so hear from me again,” he tipped his glass, which he must have refilled at some point, swallowed, and finished roughly, “fuck off.”

JARVIS cleared his throat. Or at least made a noise like he was clearing a throat. For the AI it was all pure affectation. _“The usual content filters to be applied before sending it along, I presume?”_

“You presume incorrectly. As is, thank you very much.”

_“Very well, sir.”_

Left in silence once again, Tony’s thoughts took a new, but still related direction. In all of this mess there was still S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury to consider. They were already on high alert when it came to Loki and always had been. It was probably how they had spotted him with Doom in the first place, really, by keeping any and all available resources trained on him. S.H.I.E.L.D. really never forgot, and Fury had been less than pleased to discover that Loki was in semi-regular contact with Tony, and even less so when he found out about the triplets. Tony still got headaches when he remembered _that_ particular conference. 

Since then, relations between Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. had been more strained than usual. They didn’t trust Loki, whatever he said had occurred with the trial in Asgard, and Tony was fairly certain it was only Thor’s corroboration on those facts that kept them from actively going for the god’s blood. They didn’t trust Loki, and it was an understandable, even intelligent attitude to take. However, because Tony was accepting of Loki, because he was allowing the rebel Asgardian into his Tower and not passing along absolutely _everything_ that was going on back to the man in the patch, they were made uncertain of Tony as well. Then with the addition of the triplets, and Tony’s new role as guardian and ‘second father,’ his position became even more precarious. Because of the children, Tony was already considered to be compromised. 

What, logically, would happen if S.H.I.E.L.D. decided that Loki was going back to the bad? They would have supreme difficulty in believing that it was a ruse to capture Doom, even if Thor and Tony both believed that. They were both personally affected by Loki, and their opinions would necessarily be taken with a grain of salt. If they could find grains the size of his fist. 

What would they do, and how would they handle those seen as supportive of Loki?

What would happen to Tony, or to the kids?

What should he do?

Tony sat in his chair, staring at nothing, working his way through the bottle until there was little more than a thin layer of fluid left clinging to the bottom. He thought hard, turning over all of the most likely actions that S.H.I.E.L.D. would take in his mind, than making a list of his own options and examining them just as closely. 

In the end, he decided, he wasn’t too worried about himself. S.H.I.E.L.D. might make noises to the contrary, but they needed him. They’d tried keeping him out of their oh so precious Avengers Initiative club once because he was, in a nutshell, untrustworthy, and had still come to him when the going got tough. They weren’t too likely to actually send anyone after him in a combative sense – and even if they did, who was there that could take him on that wasn’t either a part of the Avengers – or a small army? No, he was pretty sure and secure for himself. He’d survived worse than S.H.I.E.L.D. before, he would be just fine. 

The kids he was less certain of. Ever since they had come into his life it had been a constant worry squatting at the back of his brain, of his about how S.H.I.E.L.D. would view and respond to them. This newest development only threw off the tentative peace there had been on that score this last year. They were an undeniable connection to Loki, and if Loki went renegade again, S.H.I.E.L.D. would snap up whatever advantage they could find to subdue him quickly. 

Anxiously, Tony wondered how many on his own team might have already come to that line of reasoning. He could trust, _did_ trust his own team, right?

 _“Why are they scared of_ us?”

After hours of brooding in his shadowed workshop, Tony came to a decision at last. He didn’t like it. In fact he hated it. But it was, to quote the bastard who’d put him in this scrape, the best choice out of a host of bad ones. 

Tony took a few minutes to stand and pace, clearing his head a little of the cloud he’d put it into. He was ‘helped’ by Dummy following him back and forth, chirping and whirring encouragement. Eventually Tony had to physically force the bot back into his charging station. In general he functioned nearly as well when inebriated as he did when sober – sometimes a little better – but for what was about to happen a clear head would be the best choice. When the edges of tables lost their fuzziness and he was still as certain of his decision as he had been before, he dug out a small, deep blue pendant from his pocket. 

It hadn’t been a complete lie when he’d said he had no way of contacting Loki in an emergency. They’d asked if Loki had a StarkPhone, and he didn’t. He knew how to use them, he was rather good with just about any piece of tech Tony managed to get him to try out, actually, but he didn’t particularly _like_ them. Too cumbersome, he’d said, and with the unfortunate drawback of being too easily stolen, hacked or traced. Instead, he had provided Tony with a means of alerting him should something be amiss or if they needed to talk. From what he could remember of the explanation that had come with it, it was almost like an old style pager only more mystical. It would alert Loki of someone trying to contact him and provide a kind of signature to tell him who it was, but no real message could be relayed. Any sort of detail would have to wait until they were able to meet. It was magic, which meant Tony was both intrigued and mistrustful of it. Loki had given it to him months ago, nearly a year, to be honest, after a particularly bad night of terrors had left all three kids and Tony sleepless and haggard the next morning. In all that time, Tony had only used it twice. None of his team about it, not even Pepper knew about it. He didn’t want to deal with the questions or with it going missing like his booze if someone got overly curious.

He held it in his hand. A tiny thing, about the size of a large marble and shaped like a teardrop, the bottom half was a perfectly smooth, semi-opaque blue stone, mounted into the top half, made of metal and covered with intricate designs. He’d tried once or twice to discern the tiny markings, but all he could tell for sure was that there were runes woven into it, though they did not make up the bulk of the design. The whole thing was threaded on a leather thong and meant to be worn as a necklace, though Tony had never done so. To activate it, ‘the way the magic worked,’ was to twist the metal top and realign the designs to a certain point, and then twist it back. Depending on the severity of the situation that made him use the amulet, the longer he should leave it before setting it back to its original alignment.

Tony twisted the pendant and left it, simply holding it in his hand while he waited for Loki to appear. Normally leaving it on would mean an emergency so dire that he hadn’t been _able_ to set it back, but he didn’t care. He let the now living stone lay in his palm, glowing gently as its magic worked.

It didn’t take long before a familiar presence insinuated itself into the workroom with him. 

“I wondered how long it would be before you summoned me,” a smooth voice unrolled from behind him.

Tony turned. He was ready for this confrontation. He was. He was Tony motherfucking Stark, he could handle a meeting with a single man. Even if that man was a super powered alien-god being… He was _Iron Man_. He could _do_ this. 

He just had to convince his plummeting stomach of that. 

Loki stood, big as life, leaning casually against another of Tony’s work stations as though he belonged there. Tony felt a slight tingle of annoyance. He had grown very familiar with the Tower and all of Tony’s living areas, but the workshop? Apparently fewer than half a dozen visits were enough to make him feel totally at ease. Loki had taken more and more to Earth styles of dress, but tonight he wore clothing more in line with his Asgardian roots, _sans_ the armor. Soft leathers, fine linens and intricate cuts, he looked more like _Loki_ than Tony had seen him in some time. The impression was only strengthened by the slow, vaguely menacing, fully mischievous grin that spread over his face as he watched Tony take him in. 

_It’s like being stalked by some hungry animal,_ Tony thought, suppressing a shiver. _Where the last thing you would know was a flash of green eyes and a dark, mirthful laugh._

Tony kept silent, only studying him, trying to see something, anything, any clue that could help him, tell him what Loki was thinking. But Loki was, as ever, difficult to read. Trying to determine his train of thought by expression alone was like trying to read a wall. A smirking wall. Tony reset the pendant, never taking his eyes off of the grinning god, and tossed it on the table.

“What’s this?” Loki said in mock hurt. “No outrage or demands, no confusion or queries?” His grin widened slightly. “No hello kiss?”

Tony scowled. Of all the moods to catch Loki in, why did it have to be his flippant one? He was difficult enough to deal with without the added petulance. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Loki?”

“At this moment?” He was the picture of wide-eyed innocence in a blink. “Conversing with a most uncouth individual in,” he paused, giving the workshop a distasteful look around, “his _‘haven’_.”

“You know what I mean, Loki,” he said tightly, reminding himself that if he lost his temper, especially so early in this conversation, it would only encourage more of the same behavior. “You were caught out by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents today, caught at some very suspicious behavior. What have you been getting up to with Von Doom?”

Loki’s grin took on a new quirk. Yeah, Tony was hating this mood right now. “Why, Stark, is that burgeoning jealousy I hear? How flattering. If I thought you the sort I would consider it sweet, but ‘paranoid’ is closer to the mark, yes?”

He definitely wasn’t feeling very drunk, now. Now he felt more like he was fighting off a hangover. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered what time it was. “Loki…”

The Asgardian didn’t answer for a moment, then huffed irritably, crossing his arms over his chest and losing much of his nonchalant air in the process. He didn’t quite frown at Tony, but his smile disappeared. “Come now, Stark. You can’t honestly believe that I would ally myself with one such as he? Truly? I should hope that if nothing else you would know that I would seek out an alliance with someone a little more competent.”

That wasn’t the most helpful thing he could have said for his case, and Tony just stared at him. 

Loki’s expression abruptly became incredulous. “You cannot possibly believe that! I would expect little more from your companions and that idiotic organization you all pledge fealty to, but you, Stark? I had not thought so low of your intelligence as that.”

The silence was allowed to stretch a little, the staring contest to go on until Tony’ eyes watered. Finally he sighed. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. _Utter fool that I am,_ he thought to himself. “It surprises me, but I figured if you were really… going that way, you’d go solo. And you sure as hell wouldn’t get caught at it so easily. So I’m thinking it’s something to do with your penance, right?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Loki said evasively, which Tony figured was as good as he was going to get. Despite what a prominent role his penance had taken in his life, Loki never discussed it in any detail, even when Tony had asked directly. “It is distasteful, but necessary.”

Tony nodded absently. Then he scowled afresh, slamming a fist into the worktop. It was no good, there was no way around it. He had to push. “Damn it all, Loki! Can’t you see what this has done, big picture?”

“What are you referring to now?” There was a note of exhaustion in his tone.

“S.H.I.E.L.D., you idiot! _I_ might believe in your relative innocence, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is a lot harder to convince. You’re not exactly on their greeting card list, you know, and they would jump all over an opportunity to justify their suspicions.”

Loki waved a hand dismissively, unconcerned. “I do not bother with what they might think of me. I only marvel that they find it within their scope to think.”

Yeah, he was definitely getting a headache. And it was about it get a whole hell of a lot worse. “Loki, this is not just about you. Or did you just happen to forget that you have three kids to consider?” In an instant the Asgardian’s face became like a statue, blank and frozen. Tony pressed the small advantage while he had it. “Do you not realize that what _you_ do reflects on your kids, that it affects them just as much as it does you? Do you have any idea how hard it is _already_ to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. off of them, without your compounding the problem?”

Loki’s face, immobile, had gone frighteningly white, his jaw tightening until Tony thought he could actually hear his teeth creaking under the pressure. When his eyes refocused, there was a barely contained fury in his expression, poisonous in its intensity. “Yes,” he hissed, his voice strangled and breaking. “I am aware that what I do affects them. More wholly than you ever could, Stark. This is why I chose _you_ , out of all of Midgard, to be their guardian. Because you have the strength to protect them.”

Tony sighed, frustrated. Here it was, the final moment before he took the path he had decided on, and he was resigned to it. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”

There must have been something in Tony’s voice, some quality or tone, because Loki was instantly on the alert, his eyes narrowing dangerously. When he spoke there was a new edge in his voice, aggression and warning, with just a hint of fear underlying it all. “What is in your mind, Tony Stark?”

Tony held the glare being leveled at him, holding his ground while realizing that ground might soon become his tomb. “By making the kids as much my responsibility as yours, you gave me a lot of rights, Loki,” he said quietly, evenly. “I had most of it down right away, but there were some details I was a little fuzzy on, so I’ve been talking to Thor about it. Seems that my responsibility to protect them danger is an obligation, not a choice. Fair enough, I won’t complain. But the dangers, the _definition_ of danger is anything and everything that I, personally, perceive as a threat to their safety. There’s also quite a few bylaws as to what a guardian may or may not claim under Asgardian law…”

“Enough!” Loki snapped, all trace of humor erased from him. “What is your point, Stark?”

“Unless you cease and desist – immediately – with Doctor Doom, I will take the triplets.”

Silence, absolute and complete, descended on the workshop. Loki stared at Tony blankly for what felt like minutes, but which could only be seconds, if not a fraction of a second. Then a storm came into Loki’s face, one that twisted his features into those of a rabid creature, all bared teeth and flashing eyes. His body shook with rage, fists clenched at his sides, there was not a trace of flippancy about him now. “You would never dare,” his voice was barely more than an inhuman snarl. “I would feast on your heart if you even _attempted_ it.”

Looking into Loki’s face and his murderous fury, Tony didn’t doubt that claim for an instant. Loki loved his children, and from what little he could gather, had nearly lost them already at least once. He would kill anyone he saw as a threat to them, including Tony. Still. 

“This isn’t a choice, Loki, you’re forcing my hand! I’m meant to shield them from any and all dangers that I see to them, and at this moment the biggest danger to them that I see is you!”

Tony never saw Loki move. But it was abruptly hard to breathe and pain was arcing through him, radiating from his spine and the back of his head, where a wall had apparently made violent contact with him. The wind had been knocked out of him when Loki had thrown him across the room, but the fingers wrapped around his throat had as much to do with his difficulty in breathing as the first reason. He felt something crack as Loki pressed him against the wall. Possibly it was the plaster, possibly it was his ribs.

“You dare?” Loki snarled into his face, teeth millimeters from touching, from tearing into him in animalistic rage. “You think yourself so high as to threaten me? _Me?_ You think I would throw in with Doom and risk all I have done this last year? Do you take me for a complete fool?”

“No,” Tony coughed, struggling for air in Loki’s grip. “I don’t think that. I trust you that much—“

“Then it is _you_ who are the fool—“

“Doesn’t matter!” he gasped, tugging at Loki’s hand. He might as well have been trying to lift Mjolnir for all the good it did. “Doesn’t matter— what _I_ think. S.H.I.E.L.D. will think— what they want. Puts them in danger!”

“Which is why you will protect them _from_ that danger,” the god said pointedly.

Thankfully he also chose to loosen his grip enough to allow Tony to breathe, though he still had his fingers wrapped around his throat, ready. Tony took a few deep breaths before attempting to speak. “Against all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he coughed. “They already think that I’m compromised. I’m on thin ice so far as they’re concerned when it comes to trustworthiness. Trying to convince them would be a losing battle, and it would come down to _real_ battle pretty damned quickly. I talk big, but S.H.I.E.L.D. could probably squash me if they really had a mind to.” _For now,_ he thought darkly. “And if you and I are seen as being buddy-pals while you’re making nice with metal face, that thought _will_ cross their minds.” He paused, both to breathe some more and to gauge Loki’s response. “My taking sole custody, it gives us a tiny bit of elbow room. It lessens our connection and makes _them_ safer.”

Loki was still angry, incredibly so, but now at least he looked as though he might not make good on his threat right then and eat his heart while he watched, shrapnel and all. “You think that they would believe such a ruse.”

He shrugged as best he could. “Every little bit helps.”

Loki scoffed, dropping his head and breaking eye contact. Tony felt a stab of guilt go through him. He really hated doing this, hated himself for doing it, and he hadn’t even _done_ anything yet. _He_ was the one pinned to a wall, and _he_ was the one who felt guilty. The hell?

“Fuck, Loki…” he whispered, cracking. “I don’t _want_ to do this. God only knows what it would do to the kids if we got into a nasty divorce, but I’m picking the lesser of two evils, here.”

For a moment Loki was silent, staring at the ground, his body slack. Tony could have escaped his grip, but he held still. Actually he discovered that the hand that had been trying to loosen Loki’s grip was now just resting on his forearm, almost like he was comforting the Asgardian. When Loki finally looked up there was a hint of that feral rage that had come to the surface, but only a hint. “Whatever comes to pass, Stark, you _will not_ take my children from me. Not ever.”

Tony nodded. “Lay off Doom, then, and I won’t have to. Whatever scheme you have in that twisty mind of yours, surely it can be managed without him.”

He gave this some thought, his hand loosening until all it did was rest on Tony’s collar. “Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But it will require significantly more time and effort without him.”

Tony shrugged. “Your choice, then.”

Loki glared at him, snatching his hand away and shaking Tony off in the same motion. “A choice in name only.” He straightened his clothing fastidiously, putting more distance between them. “I will cease my interactions with Doom,” he bit out, and Tony thought his knees would buckle with relief. “Any concerns on the part of S.H.I.E.L.D. should dissipate when they realize I am no longer present.”

“Eventually,” Tony agreed, still dizzy with relief. “Thank you.”

Loki made an impatient motion. “You owe no thanks. If anyone owes it, it is I.”

Confused, Tony tilted his head at him.

“You fulfilled your role as guardian admirably,” Loki explained. “Though I never thought you would need to do so against _me_ ,” he added ruefully.

Tony chuckled, then winced when that made his ribcage twang painfully. He’d have to check that when he had a minute. “Let’s hope we never have to do this again, then.”

The God of Mischief gave him an inscrutable look. Turning on his heel, he said, “Indeed,” and winked out of existence.

Tony stared at the spot where he had stood a moment before, wondering. Then, with a mental shrug, gathered up the pendant and slipped it back in his pocket, tidied away – hid – the bottle and glass, and headed back upstairs to his apartment to see how much sleep he could get before the day began.

**Author's Note:**

> I have it in the back of my mind that Jör and Hela have a pact to try and broaden Fen's vocabulary. Also, JARVIS and the bots are quickly becoming favorite characters, and will probably be showing up more in future installments. Gotta love the AI's.
> 
> **Thanks for reading, faving and reviewing these fics, everybody! I'm glad you're all enjoying this weird little exploration into Loki and Tony as parents. XD**


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